


what we've learned

by macalla



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, their friendship is very important to me ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 19:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macalla/pseuds/macalla
Summary: The time has come for Brienne to depart from Winterfell to return home; there's just one final thing left to do before she leaves.





	what we've learned

In the dim gray of early morning, Brienne wandered through the chilly halls of Winterfell for the final time. She took her time walking the long corridors past the great hall, the kitchens, the armory, making her way to the main yard. Sweeping through the castle came the quiet hum of blooming dawn; the soft and steady wind, the distant chirps of birds, the pattering of footsteps light on the snow as men and women headed off to work, soft murmurs and whispers, the rustling of leaves. Brienne was almost ready to go. She’d said her goodbyes to Sansa; her horse was waiting in the stables, loaded with her clothes and just enough food to last until White Harbor; she was armored and Oathkeeper was sheathed at her hip; she had only one thing left to do.

Podrick was waiting in the courtyard just like she’d asked of him. He was dressed in his fighting gear, a mahogany gambeson over a crimson tunic, Widow’s Wail hanging from the belt Brienne had gifted him. _A proper sturdy belt for a proper sword, _she had told him. She’d had to fight hard to keep her emotions in check when she handed it to him. Jaime had left the sword behind in Winterfell before riding south. Lady Sansa wouldn’t accept it, nor Arya; neither had any need for another sword. _Keep it safe_, her lady had told her; it was hers to hold onto, until it came time for the sword to be used again, side by side with Oathkeeper. The twin swords were once one, and they were meant to stay together, to fight together. When it was clear Jaime was never coming back, Brienne gave it to Podrick. Her squire had refused at first; he wasn’t near worthy, he exclaimed. But there was no one else that would ever be more worthy or deserving of Oathkeeper’s twin, and she told him as much. It wasn’t right for the sword, the rare piece of Valyrian steel that it was, to sit in the closet, stowed away in the dark with all the painful memories it was a small part of; it should be used to do good, to build new memories, ones she could look back on without regret, only fondness. Now, the sword’s golden hilt glistened at her squire’s side, and it made Brienne smile to see him wear it.

When Pod saw her approach, he smiled up at her, stood up a little straighter. “My lady, good morning,” he said, rubbing his gloved hands together in front of him in a poor attempt to keep warm. He had foregone his thick winter cloak this morning and was shivering slightly for lack of it. Though spring was steadily approaching, mornings were still especially chilly, and even on good days when the sun beamed down through clear skies, true warmth had long yet to reach the frozen northern landscape. The snow melted bit by bit, flowers poked through the frosty soil and grew inch by inch, but the ghost of winter’s cold hands still lingered over the quiet castle grounds like a sad memory that refused to fade into forgottenness.

“Good morning, Pod,” Brienne replied. “Come with me. I have something for you before I leave.” As she passed by him, she caught a quizzical look forming on his face out of the corner of her eye. As she headed through the courtyard Pod remained still for a moment, and then jogged to catch up with her. Brienne walked down the path along the inner wall of the castle at her usual breakneck pace, so that Pod had to stride quickly to keep up, boots crunching in quick, light steps upon the icy ground. Before long, without further conversation, they reached the godswood, and she slowed slightly as they made their way to the center. The winds were gentle through the barrier of trees, the air damp with mist that covered the woods in a soothing veil; in the canopy above, birds chirped and sang, occasionally fluttering by and disappearing soon as they’d come back into the branches of the tall oaks and sentinels. Brienne stopped under the dark red leaves of the weirwood. Podrick stopped beside her, and for a moment they looked silently out together at the woods, at the deep blue pool, still and quiet, barely a ripple on its surface; at the red and green leaves fluttering overhead; at the patches of snow glistening through the veil of mist, the last touches of the dwindling winter.

“My lady,” Podrick asked finally, eyebrows lowered in confusion, “why are we here?”

“I’m leaving today to return to Tarth,” she began; information her squire already knew. “I don’t wish to leave Sansa alone, but I know that you will protect her just as well as I have.”

“Brienne—my lady…” Pod’s eyebrows lowered even further, somehow.

“You’ve become a skillful fighter, and a loyal protector,” Brienne continued, trying to keep her voice steady; this was already harder than she’d imagined it might be. “You proved yourself during the Long Night and every day since, under my command. I would have you knighted before I leave, if you would accept.”

“You mean…?” Pod’s mouth hung open, and his eyes widened with a mixture of confusion and awe. He shook his head rapidly, as if trying to whisk away his panic. “I mean—yes! I accept, of course, my lady, Ser, Brienne.”

Brienne chuckled at her squire’s nervousness. “Kneel, Podrick Payne.” She smiled down at him as he lowered himself onto one knee, and unsheathed Oathkeeper.

When Pod stood back up, he gazed up at her with tears in his eyes and such a proud smile, one that made Brienne recall the night she herself was knighted, the unblemished joy and hope that had, for a short time, filled her completely. She hoped with all her heart that she had been able to do the same for Pod, that this wouldn’t be only a joyous moment followed closely behind by misery. Pod dusted off his pants as she returned Oathkeeper to its scabbard.

They walked back through the godswood at a leisurely pace, as quietly as they’d come. The air felt heavier, suddenly, with some strange mixture of relief and worry, a tension between the hopefulness of the previous moment and the somber realization of what was to come. When they reached the edge of the godswood, the dark castle walls looming up ahead, Brienne stopped again. “Well,” she said, pointing to the right with her thumb. “The stables are that way, and I expect you better get back to prepare for the day.”

“Prepare?” Pod asked. Brienne approached him hesitantly, extending a hand.

“Pod,” she said. “Thank you. For everything.” Pod looked down at her hand, extended between them, and instead of shaking it pulled her into a hug. They’d only done this once before, after the dead fell, when she’d expected the worst but had turned her head to find him down the wall a ways, staring wide-eyed out at the field of skeletons and dead men, exhausted and bloody but alive. She’d strode over to him despite her aching legs, wrapped her arms around him, unable to talk, unable to hear anything but the echoes of shrieks and screams in her ears; she’d held onto him with some battle-crazed fear for his safety and a need to protect him, keep him alive even though the fighting was all over. Nothing had seemed real; it was both a nightmare and a reverie, she felt so lost and so dead and so alive_, _all at once. She held onto Pod until the screaming faded, until she could hear the soft whispers, _are we really alive?_ Jaime came up from behind and rested his hand on her arm; Brienne turned, looked into his eyes, then into Pod’s, and she couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words, but she nodded furiously, _yes, we’re alive, we’re alive, we’re alive. I’m so proud of you._ Despite her silence, she felt that Pod had understood what she was telling him with her eyes.

Today was a different end of days. “Thank you,” she repeated, wrapping her arms around him. She wished she didn’t have to leave, wished she could protect him from everything that was to come. But at the same time, she knew he didn’t need her protection anymore. He would be strong on his own, she knew because she’d taught him, and because that _was_ him, her loyal squire, eager and kind and, however much his battle skills might need still need improving, strong in the ways that mattered most; in his mind, and in his heart. Even through her armor, he was warm, his embracing comforting. Family, the word fluttered through her like a leaf on the wind; something they could have been, if she wasn’t leaving this morning, if she weren’t to be living a continent away. She ran a hand in soft strokes down his back as he tucked himself against her, between her long arms.

When they pulled apart, she nodded. “Well,” she said. “I suppose this is it.”

“My Lady, why are you crying?” Pod tilted his head curiously.

Blinking a tear away, Brienne squeezed Pod’s arm lightly and broke away, making to head down the path towards the stables. Pod only continued after her. Fine, she thought, so he wanted to see her off, wanted to stay until the last possible moment. _It’s only fitting, he’s been at my side longer than anyone else, has always refused to leave me be. _But she wished he wouldn’t; it would be easier if they could go their separate ways now, if she could head to the stables alone and pretend it was just another day, that they’d see each other again soon. But then again, she realized, rubbing a hand across her wet cheek, she was already crying. Once more, she stopped, part way down the path, and turned to face Podrick.

“You just want to make it more difficult, do you? Is that why you’re following me?” she asked, meaning it as a lighthearted quip, but her voice came out wavering and quiet. She looked down at her squire—her knight—with a worried frown.

“My Lady, I don’t understand what you mean,” Podrick replied, frowning back. “You do realize that I’m coming with you?”

“Podrick,” she breathed sadly. “I’ve told you, haven’t I? I’m leaving on my own. Sansa has given you a position in her Queensguard. I need you here to protect her.”

Podrick shook his head. “We never agreed that I would stay here, My Lady. You’ve only spoken of your own plans to leave. Maybe you expected that I would want to stay here, and that it didn’t require a conversation, but you’re mistaken. And anyways, Queen Sansa told me that I should go where I was most needed.”

“_Podrick Payne_,” she repeated firmly. “I just knighted you, in front of the heart tree, because you’re worthy of protecting Sansa while I’m gone. You can’t just trudge along with me after all that! And you truly believe _I_ need your help more than the Queen does?”

Podrick nodded. “My lady,” he said. “Brienne.” Mere minutes after his knighting and there was already a new confidence about him. “You didn’t really think I was going to leave you alone, after everything, did you? Queen Sansa has plenty of strong, loyal soldiers. And Arya’s back again; she’s no knight, but she’s just as strong as one. Sansa is in good hands here.”

“You can’t come,” Brienne told him. “I forbid you.”

Podrick smiled. “If you leave without me, I’ll just follow behind. Better you just accept my help now, My Lady, two knights are better than one out on the northern roads, even if winter is almost over.”

Brienne sighed, but Podrick continued to smile softly up at her. As the morning sun rose higher, beams of light were starting to pour through the trees, enveloping the godswood behind them in a warm, golden haze.

“You’ll really come with me?” Brienne asked, chest tight as she held back further tears.

“Even if I’m a knight now, I still have a lot to learn,” Podrick said. He grasped the sword at his side, as if ready for battle. “Plus, you need someone to protect _you _now—you do!” he exclaimed against Brienne’s protests. “Everyone needs someone like that. Even the strongest knight in the seven kingdoms. There’s nowhere else I want to go, not yet. I just want to help you.”

“Oh, Podrick.” Brienne moved closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. What ever would she do without him? How could she have ever considered leaving him here in Winterfell?

Together they stood at the edge of the godswood, watching as it stood patient and peaceful, sunlight covering morning’s misty veil in a soft gold hue as it crept through the trees. Everything would turn out fine, she thought, taking in the gentle strokes of wind and the quivering leaves above; the sunrise that painted the world in its palette of pink and gold, from the highest corners of the sky to the earth at their feet, damp with snowmelt; the comforting touch of Pod’s arm as he in turn wrapped it around her back, shielding her from the heartbreak of leaving.

“You may be a knight now,” she told him as they walked to the stables, arm in arm, “but you’re right, you still have much to learn. So, don’t think we’re stopping your training. An hour in the morning, an hour at night. No exceptions.” 

“Yes, my lady,” Podrick said with an annoyed tone that reminded Brienne of their early days, before Winterfell, before the dead, before she’d learned of the bitter cold of winter and of heartbreak, of the way they both ached deep in your bones, lingered even when you sat beside the warm hearth, even as you succumbed to dreams beneath the thick furs at night. Before all that, she was just a naïve woman on an impossible quest, and Pod only a boy that, despite her continued attempts to send him away, continued to follow at her side. It had been constant, the back and forth, her stern commands and judgements and corrections, and Pod, always exhausted by them but trying his best, a huff and a _yes, my lady,_ before he walked away to tie the horses up properly, or find better kindling for the fire, or what ever else she’d asked of him. And she would gaze into the dying embers while she waited, watch as the last glowing sparks, with no fuel left to keep them alive, dwindled away into darkness. She’d watch the fire die out and let her imagination run rampant; she pictured a beautiful princess with long red hair; the snow-covered halls of the northern castle she would return the girl to; Catelyn somewhere quiet and bright, looking proudly upon them both. Brienne wondered what impossible dreams Podrick might have had back then. _Don’t regret them,_ she would tell him, if she were strong enough to believe it herself. _We all have them, and we all learn. Here we are, now, and we’ve both lived, and we’ve both learned. _Her dreams had come true in the most unexpected of ways, but her red-haired Queen was safe now in her castle, and Brienne had to leave them behind now; she had a different duty to uphold, a different road to travel, new dreams to dream, if she ever dared to.

Brienne patted Pod on the back, and then trudged on ahead, leaving him to chase behind her again. “It’s a long trip ahead of us,” she called over her shoulder. “Best we get saddled up with haste.”

“Yes, my lady,” Pod agreed, following her into the stables.

**Author's Note:**

> \- a dedication to my favorite friendship on game of thrones.
> 
> \- takes place in my post-canon universe where brienne is the commander of sansa's queensguard for a while and then returns to tarth to become the evenstar. eventually i'll make a cohesive series about this.
> 
> \- in my mind arya will return to winterfell again a while after the series' ending. she's just not the lone wolf that she thinks she needs to be. that wanderlust is going to fade away and she's going to want to come home to her pack again. imo. hence the quick note in the story about that.
> 
> \- forgottenness is now a real word, i have decided.


End file.
